Just a Little Help, Wright
by Blackwidina
Summary: Phoenix has some pride issues.  If you squint and tilt your head the right way, there's some beginning Phoenix/Apollo, here.


The Ace Attorney games, their characters and settings, etc., are property of Capcom, and are being used here without permission. I'm making no profit from this. In fact, probably a deficit, in terms of time and college GPA.

Spoilers through Apollo Justice, obviously. The beginnings of Phoenix/Apollo, if you squint. It's my first AA fic, and not a favorite of mine, but I gotta start somewhere, right? Also, there's not enough Nick/Apollo out there, and I endeavor to do something about it, rather than just gripe about it. Hint hint, fellow authors.

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It was just the three of them in the Wright Anything Agency. Trucy and Apollo had spent a fruitful afternoon cleaning, while Phoenix...well, certainly kept the couch warm. Around 8 PM, Trucy apologetically broke off from their grueling labor so that she could prepare for her show at the Wonder Bar—the stage required a certain set-up, and she was too good of a magician to risk leaving it that way overnight. She cheerfully tried to talk Apollo into going with her, but wasn't surprised when he declined. With one last hug for her Daddy, she was off into the evening, leaving Apollo and Phoenix together alone.

It had taken some time, but the scenario no longer bothered Apollo in the slightest. His . . . 'employer,' while certainly the Phoenix Wright he had grown up adoring, had done such a thorough job smashing all of his childhood preconceptions that these days, it was more of a shock when the man actually DID act like his former self. And really, the things that apparently hadn't changed were so _odd_, such as the obsession with having a clean toilet. A _really_ clean toilet. You could have made noodles in the bowl, it was that spotless. In fact, cleaning the bathroom was the only concession to Apollo and Trucy's hard work that afternoon. It had actually been quite hilarious—Trucy had pulled a toilet brush out of thin air, and made like she was going in there herself, only to have Phoenix surge off the couch and grab it, muttering that they 'wouldn't do it right.'

Whatever the hell THAT meant.

Now, however, his lazy self was back on the couch, watching Steel Samurai reruns, while Apollo finished sorting out all the paperwork on the desk. He put Nick's study materials for the bar exam in one stack, his own case files in another to be filed, Trucy's wild scribblings in another, and . . . ugh. _Bills_. He took a moment to shuffle through those, and winced when he realized just how far overdue everything was. "Uh...Mr. Wright?" he ventured.

When he received no answer, he glanced over to see that his boss had fallen asleep...or so it seemed. Apollo's bracelet suddenly _pinched_ and he quickly Perceived the slightest tension in Phoenix's face as he tried to relax it into a semblance of unconsciousness. Along with the faint tugging of the smirk he was trying to hide.

Apollo shook his head to clear his vision, then grabbed a rubber ball Trucy'd left on the shelf behind him and calmly threw it at the beanie; it bounced with a lovely-sounding '_thwock_.' "Nice try, but you need to remember who you're dealing with."

The man gave up the charade and laughed. "All right, you got me. What's up? You're not going to try and get me to help again, are you?"

Apollo smirked, "If that sweet face of Trucy's didn't get you up, I doubt my ugly mug will. That being said, there're some bills here that you should probably take a look at.

Phoenix shrugged, not even sparing a glance his way. In his laziest tone, he replied, "Yeah, well, I just paid rent. Anything else will just have to wait. Since the murder, a lot of the usual clientele aren't willing to play at the Borscht Bowl until the place slips back under the radar. Well, at least, not for money."

The younger man facepalmed, "As your defense attorney, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part. And feign ignorance to how you've kept this place afloat for so long."

"That would probably be for the best," Phoenix was genuinely amused, "Though I'm surprised you're so squeamish about it."

"It's not really that. Call it plausible deniability." He sorted through the stack again, and cringed when he realized the electric was due to be shut off the following Monday. He took one glance out the window, seeing snow in the clouds, then thought of Trucy, and pulled out his cell phone and started dialing.

"What are you doing?"

Apollo sent a 'shhh!' over Phoenix's way, then started wrangling with the automated payment system, complete with crappy 'voice recognition' system. To his surprise, as soon as it became clear what he was doing, Phoenix was suddenly at his side, noisily protesting. Apollo waved him off, trying to focus on enunciating enough that the sadistic computer could understand him. When he got to the part where he had to dial in his card number, he pulled the phone away from his ear, holding it far enough away that Phoenix couldn't reach it. "What?" he hissed. "Don't worry about it, I've got it." He kept moving, dancing away from large, grabby hands.

"Apollo, it's not your-"

"_Objection_! I work here, you know. And you two _live_ here. There's no way in hell I'm letting the power be shut off-"

"_Hold it!_ It's _my_ office, you're _my_ employee-"

"And you don't have the money to cover it. I do. _This_ time, at least." He finished punching in the numbers and hurriedly confirmed the transaction. By the time he hung up the phone, Phoenix had chased him into a corner, quite literally. Shoving his bank card back into his pocket, Apollo turned around to face the man looming over him. "There. It's done, and you can't take it back."

He didn't need his bracelet to sense the tension in his boss, though it tightened up reflexively anyway. "That was . . . _unnecessary_." It sounded like Phoenix was talking through gritted teeth.

Apollo took in the locked jaw, the uncharacteristically serious gaze. "You've had Trucy helping you out since she was just a kid. You've broken the law, a _lot_, playing poker to make ends meet. Why does it bother you so badly that I'm trying to help?"

"Because it's not your responsib—"

"The hell it's not!" Apollo was starting to get angry, now. "If you're going to pull that line, then should I point out that it's not _your_ job to take care of _me?_ Just in case you've forgotten."

"We've gone without before."

"You shouldn't have to. Can you honestly tell me that you'd feel okay letting Trucy freeze half to death over pride?" He searched Phoenix's eyes, sensing his resolve starting to crumble. "Look, you and Trucy are . . . you're like the family I never had growing up. Trucy's like, the best sister I could have ever dreamed up, even when she's driving me crazy and you . . . you . . ." Apollo trailed off, not sure he wanted to say any more than that.

Phoenix seemed to be searching his face for something. "Are you about to start calling me Daddy, too?"

Apollo focused on the new tension in Phoenix's body. "I don't . . . I don't think so." A subtle relaxing of the shoulders told him that was a good answer. "Look, if it bothers you so much, all you have to do is promise to pay me back. I don't care if you take ten years to do it. Or never. Just let me _help_. You can trust me."

Phoenix seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, but finally heaved a sigh and relaxed, taking a step back. "You're really stubborn. You know that, right?"

"Are you kidding? Have you _seen_ the people I keep having to defend? I'm not just stubborn, I'm a masochist."

Phoenix laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made Apollo's stomach do a little flip. "I guess that's just part of a defense attorney's job requirements."

Apollo got a wicked smirk on his face, "Yeah. So is passing the bar. And since you don't have the excuse of no lights to see by, I suggest you get back to studying, before I paint over the name on the sign." He pointed imperiously to the stack of law books and study notes he'd set aside earlier.

The older man groaned a little, "Yes, boss."

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